


felt tip heart

by kinpika



Series: BLUE [19]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, I wanted an excuse for them to be cute, Maybe vandalise some property with their initials in a heart, Sidestep days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-12-01 23:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20937074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinpika/pseuds/kinpika
Summary: “Uh huh.” Pops the cap, and you don’t quite know where he was going with this. Not when he shuffles back, carefully holding the tip of the marker over the metal.And you gasp, scandalised. “Why, Marshal Charge, are you vandalising public property?”





	felt tip heart

Chin in hand, you’re watching the way the world passes by. Amphitheatre full today, with the way the fountain was going. Band idly playing in the background, something you don’t recognise, with a radio going off just a fraction too close. Blink, sort out the noise. Separate. Watch the dogs pass by.

Catch the way Ricardo mimics the way you sit, albeit just a fraction more awkward, ankle over knee. Balancing on the railing, that you suppose was a fancy choice of bench, and you twirl the marker in your hand once more, before poking him in the middle of the forehead.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” Shoots back, far too easy. With a smile slung your way, that’s sunny and breezy cool, unlike the way the low sun beats down on your shoulders.

You’ll burn, have to buy aloe vera tomorrow. “You know what you’re doing. Stop it.”

For one moment, Ricardo seems to ponder the request. Raises his face, just a little, pulling into a frown. “Let me think about that… _nope_.” Leans in closer, so his lips brush yours.

Push a hand in his face, hold him right there. Until Ricardo licks your palm and you laugh, far too loud, far too open, wiping your offended appendage against his shirt. “You’re so gross.”

“You love it,” he teases, with a wink, that you return with another push at his cheek. Get him to turn, away, just enough, until his eyes face ahead.

But you don’t let go. Drag your thumb over his skin, newly dusted with the hint of freckles in the sun. Deceptively innocent, with the slide of his eye. You do not account for the way it suddenly softens, then, leaning into your touch. How Ricardo bites his lip, eyes dropping, rising.

“Can I ask you something?”

Pause. “Always a dangerous request.”

That earns you a snort, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Nothing like that. Promise.” Little finger held out, and for one moment you debate taking it.

Except you do, of course you do, because you’re held like that, as Ricardo seems to find the willpower to keep speaking.

“Have you ever thought of something else?”

“‘Something else’?” You echo back, frowning. Staring.

Enough to have Ricardo seemingly waver, only a moment. “Y’know. Beyond this.”

It’s then that you bite the inside of your lip, slip your hand from his cheek to the curve of his neck. Find the way his Adam’s apple moves under your touch, and you shift a little closer, knees bumping now. Maybe, this was it.

Maybe, this was not. So you choose your words, dance around it. “Technically, I can get out whenever. I’m not government property.”

Ricardo gives a laugh that spikes little pinpricks all over your mind. Not at all the safety net of static. “Yeah, true. Might’ve gotten too much sun.”

Wrong answer, wrong interpretation. Can feel the way you narrow your eyes, trying to find the real question, somewhere in there. Where his eyes cast down, only for a moment, and then it’s gone. Mask in place.

You do not tempt anything further. A part of you wants to. Of course it does. You can only settle, for the way you slide your hand down his arm, now, find his hand. Weave your fingers together, squeeze three times. Feel the way he squeezes back.

“Wanna make this our spot?”

A question that you don’t know the steps taken to get to. Clearly it reflected on your face, but compared to the earlier question, Ricardo does not falter. Beams all too warm, hand still in yours. Yours in his. Mull the words over in your head.

“Why?”

“Well… why not? Let’s do something stupid for once.”

“Ricardo, we _literally_ do something stupid every day.”

That earns you him trying to mask his laughter with a cough. “Mmm, true, but this time with _meaning_.” Emphasises the word; you roll your eyes.

Can’t deny the way you were grinning, of course. One that takes over you and is something you feel down to your toes. You know it shows, yet you don’t have it in you to deflect. “You’re getting adventurous in your old age.”

And that earns you a sour face, one that has you being pushed back now. Hand in your face, muffling your laughter. So you return the favour, hear a snort of “Logan!” and nearly fall off the railing from laughing too hard. Clutch your sides, ignore the way he rubs his hand on your sleeve. Meets your eye, and the apparent disgust gives way to the smile. The pause.

Silence almost threatens to fall, before, Ricardo speaks. “Do you have a marker on you?”

Without missing a beat, you respond: “of course not.”

“I know you draw on walls, Walsh, don’t lie to me.”

Scowl, roll your eyes. Fish it out of your pocket. “It was one time, and you dared me.”

“Uh huh.” Pops the cap, and you don’t quite know where he was going with this. Not when he shuffles back, carefully holding the tip of the marker over the metal.

And you gasp, scandalised. “Why, Marshal Charge, are you vandalising public property?”

Cap between his teeth, and Ricardo bops his head to the band, offering you only one look. A kind of smile that makes him look ten years younger, ten years cheekier. Big heart, around your initials, together. Signed, sealed, delivered, right to this spot.

Arrow, drawn right through. Dusted with feathers and far too much decoration and you have to steal the marker back off him, before he got the idea to pepper the entire railing with graffiti. Hold it high above your head, until he’s leaning over you. Ricardo doesn’t balance well enough, arms around your waist, and you both tip over.

Catch yourself before you hit the ground, leg still in the air. Far too much laughter that you’ve earned one too many looks, and Ricardo groans about his elbow or knee or the way he kisses you, far too easily. Slow and warm and loud smacks of lips that have you giggle, all peppered in between. As you push his fringe from his eyes, you don’t try to stop yourself. Not at all.

Especially not, when you caught the edge of your initial, surrounded by a heart.


End file.
